I need to get this off my chest. It pertains to my ambivalent feelings toward Westminster Choir College, notwithstanding its ongoing battle with its current owner Rider University. I have had conflicted feelings about my alma mater since the day I graduated and quite probably before. To this day I'm not sure what my feelings are toward WCC. Too be sure, I do have some wonderful memories; yet, even those are tinged with a certain wistfulness, perhaps even melancholy, when I realise the end result of my ubiety there. It may explain my lack of sanguinity over WCC possible demise. I'm only a few years away from leaving this earth (or more accurately becoming part of it) and my memories aren't exactly the most approbative.
It was in in eighth grade that I discovered the magnificence and overwhelming glory of the organ. It was from that point on I wanted to be a musician, specifically an organist — like Virgil Fox. I never studied piano; I went directly to the organ. It was the organ I wanted to master and nothing else. Of course one thing usually leads to another; and after some time I also became interested in composing music. Even though the organ was always my first love, it was through that instrument that I became interested in all aspects of serious music.* My high school music teacher was a fellow named Joseph Bachak; and, after examining two choral pieces I had written, particularly a setting to Psalm 100, was convinced that should study composition and offered I take music theory (which I did; there were two of us in the class). He even recommended I apply to New England Conservatory or Boston University (his alma mater). However, a teenager's life being the bundle of conflicts that it is, it was my acquaintance with the music director of the neighbouring high school whose choir had come to visit my school. I discovered that David Porkola was not only an organist, but an exceptional one. That and my seeing how much more intense the music programme was at that school, and my welcome "to hang out" there and eventual involvement with kids in that music programme, permanently cemented my desire to study music formally. He would occasionally refer to "Westminster" and his stories about his organ teacher Alexander MacCurdy fascinated me. The fact that Glassboro High had this incredible sounding choir was his doing; something he attributed to his study at "Westminster." He left to do his graduate work at Union Theological Seminary (which at the the time had the premier graduate level organ department in the country) and I never got to know to which Westminster he referred. I applied to Westminster College in western Pennsylvania, and realised that it wasn't the right one (even though it had nice music department), then I learned bout Westminster Choir College and that it had best organ department in the world. I realised that was the Westminster Dave was referencing. I applied (as well as to a dozen other schools) had my audition with George Markey on the chapel organ and was accepted (mostly on potential) as one of his students, something I later found out was considered to be very special.
So, that was my entry into what I thought was going to be the school of my dreams. As it turned out... well, it's hard to say. I adored Dr. Markey. He was a wonderful teacher. I just wish I could have been a better student. All I wanted to do was study the organ, but, of course there were other things that needed to be learnt. I loved theory; and although I didn't actually hate ear training it (as well as sight singing) just never fully developed, and has atrophied since. It's been a principal source of my feelings of inadequacy. The Vietnam War was major influence in my gradual decline in academic standing. At the time deferments for teachers were still recognised, and the last thing I wanted was to be drafted into that heinous conflict. Ergo, I switched from a church music degree to education (which pleased my father since "it gave me something to fall back on") which then doubled my academic load to the point to which I couldn't focus on anything. As a result ended up becoming considerably less than I wanted to be. Having what was (and still is) undiagnosed ADD didn't help with trying set priorities. Moreover, as a result of my switch I had to become a tri-semester senior in order make up the credits for graduation. Look, I never wanted to be an elementary or high school teacher. Practise teaching was an egregious experience and my practicum at Audubon High was simply miserable. I had a mean spirited, overly possessive teacher who would not let me near his choir; so, I ended up teaching theory, somewhat. It didn't help that I also had to have both wisdom teeth removed then. The bastard gave me a D.
After my fateful (if not fatal) change of majors, I made two more stupid changes: taking German and switching to another organ teacher. I'll never forgive Frau Silz for not letting me drop German. I ended up with a D in that course as well, and a C in my major instrument; something from which I've never recovered. I left Dr. Markey not because I wanted to, but because I felt I was no longer worthy to study under him. Of course, breaking my right wrist in my Freshman year put a bit of a damper on my playing; not realising it was more than a sprain for three of four weeks encumbered the healing process considerably through to the end of the second semester. The one good thing, it gave me the opportunity to learn the Middelschulte "Perpetual Motion" for pedals alone. But, even before that, during the first semester, I had the good fortune of contracting viral Meningitis from which I nearly died. Then again shortly before the end of the second semester of "first" senior year Whilst playing frisbee Tim Dobbins decided to tackle me as if we were playing NFL football from which I received a a broken clavicle. I still have a slight slope in my left shoulder.
The numerous Symphonic Choir concerts from which I was routinely cut further disheartened me. I never auditioned for the Chapel Touring Choir or Westminster Choir simply because I thought I just wasn't good enough. Let me tell you, not being able to participate in those Symphonic Choir concerts was a monumental disappointment and only contributed to my perceived exiguousness. After spending all that practise and rehearsal time learning these great masterpieces and then to be told (essentially) that I wasn't good enough to participate just seemed so unfair. Now, I know other people would be cut occasionally from concerts; however, it just seemed that my exclusions seemed inordinately high. The one cut that hurt the most was missing out on the "Missa Solemnis" with Bernstein conducting. It still hurts. I think a large part of it was (excepting one or two other students I knew) I loved the orchestra more than others did. I wanted to learn it all, and it was probably one of the reasons the two courses of study in which I excelled were conducting and orchestration. I loved conducting class and was a natural. It was the area I did my ill-fated (again) graduate study. That's another sad story as result of my poor decision making.
As an organist I was non-comformist to the Baroque/purist movement that was so popular at the time (being a fan of Virgil Fox at that time was apostate); I felt not a little out of place. This may have been influential as to my burgeoning interest in conducting and to the resuscitation of my interest in composition. I spent more time improvising and composing, and less on pretty much anything else. Fortunately, the a saving grace in my final two years at WCC was my studying and ultimate friendship with Malcolm Williamson. My lessons with him were one revelation after another. He was the most accomplished and encyclopaedic musician I have (and probably will) ever meet. He and Dr. Markey were the two faculty members who demonstrated to me the most generosity of spirit. Except for my Markey organ lessons and Williamson composition studies, I felt that I was pretty much a bystander.
There was a third saving grace without whom my existence at WCC might have been intolerable, and that was my roommate and best friend from my Sophomore year till graduation George Gray. Nobody else had his easy going, funny, yet musically determined approach to life than he. In short he made me laugh and enjoy just about anytime we spent together. When he walked into a room it was as if the world became a truly enjoyable planet. It's very difficult to pin down. George could say things that no one else could. He just had this amazing ability to simply make everybody feel better. I can easily say it was an honour to have had him as my roommate those 3.5 years (we were both tri-semester seniors). One of my biggest regrets (of the infinite number) is that in later years I let him down in an aborted attempt to be the organist at his church.
Which takes me to my post-WCC life, which because I knew I was less than what I should have been — essentially a fraud — I consequently made innumerable poor decisions (two failed marriages, a failed business venture, failed graduate degrees, etc) to compensate for my perceived inadequacies from which I have paid the price and as a result ended up to this present day being so, so, so much less than I should have been. The sin of it all is I know I still have these abilities and knowledge that very, very few other musicians have. I absolutely know if put in front an orchestra I could conduct them better than almost any or the so-called hot shots currently standing on podia. I see choral conductors (some who currently teach at WCC!) who scandalise me with their dreadful technique.
I could ramble on; but why? It's pretty evident what the future holds for me. Unfortunately, so much of this goes back to my years at WCC. Do I blame the school? I don't know. I can't help thinking that if I had gone another school (NEC?) and studied composition or conducting things would be different. More importantly, I went on to college before I ready — something to this day of which I'm convinced is truly the case. The things a young person will do to earn the respect of one's parents, particularly the father. Nevertheless, all decisions made were mine (with the singularly consequential exception of the coercive Frau Priscilla Silz). Ergo, I have no one else to blame.
I know full well that the decisions I made have resulted in my now seeing at where I am at 71 years of age with nothing to show of what I know or could have been.
We go through life with as they say, "there but for the grace of God;" And, having been more than once an hair's breadth away from homelessness I certainly know what that means. My decisions were mine, as infelicitous as they were; they are mine and I must contend with that fact. And one of those fateful decisions was to attend Westminster Choir College. I will die without even remotely accomplishing whatever goals, no matter how small, I may have set for myself. So be it. As the saying goes: "Life's a bitch, and then you die." Or as Ezra Pound said: "It don't make no difference" (I'm sure nobody will get irony of that statement).
*Evidently it was more of a reawakening of what had been an early proclivity to classical music. I vaguely remember "conducting" to my Aunt Dottie's Toscanini recording of the Beethoven Symphonies; something she sensed in me but was either not recognised or was dismissed by my parents. My father being an engineer and science oriented was obviously more interested in my primary obsession at the time — palaeontology. Thus music lay dormant until my twelfth and thirteenth years and the discovery of Virgil Fox's "Encores" album.
